Black and Gold
by SammyQuill
Summary: The diadam gave her every bit of knowledge, except the kind that mattered most. Third in my Founders Four series. This time, from Rowena's point of view.


**Summary:** _You are calm. Because calmness is something you have long honed and perfected. Who else would know more about the equation of stabilizing the thought for knowledge to seep through? And now, when everything you have mastered is finally being put to the test, you cannot even be appreciative of all that you have accomplished through the years. You cannot be happy, sad, or hurt. You are just calm._

The diadam gave her every bit of knowledge, except the kind that mattered most.

**Author's rant:** This is the third one shot in my Founders Four series and is possibly my favorite of the whole lot. The "problem" in this fic is easy enough to see yet for some unknown reason, I received feedback saying it wasn't clear. Oh well, I suppose reading carefully for subtleties has gone out of style.

If you find this confusing in any way, please feel free to tell me so, maybe my writing is the one that needs work. And as with all the other previous one shots, I do not own Rowena or Godric but I do own this "conspiracy", if you will.

And a final word of caution, this piece of fan fiction deals with mental disorders of sorts. You have been warned

**BLACK AND GOLD  
**

You are calm. Because calmness is something you have long honed and perfected. Who else would know more about the equation of stabilizing the thought for knowledge to seep through? And now, when everything you have mastered is finally being put to the test, you cannot even be appreciative of all that you have accomplished through the years. You cannot be happy, sad, or hurt. You are just calm.

The raven that usually perches in its cage suspended from the ceiling is not there. It has no doubt gone off to glide in the golden winds of springtime. It, just like its mistress, is by no means ordinary – but its survival, unlike yours, is less complicated. It is probably hunting, or on the prowl now, just like a certain someone you could name – albeit so quietly you yourself would not be able to hear.

The weather seems to be aiding you in your state of acquired calm façade. For why would one not want to be blissful on this ironically golden day? The scroll of parchment resting on the edge of your dark desk – so close to the edge, creating the impression that the reader wants it to slide off, taking both its author and meaning away with it, away into oblivion – comes back to haunt you again.

But you tell yourself you will not look at the letter. Instead, you need to concentrate on other things – for example, how to rid yourself of this deadly calm.

_Dearest Rowena,_

I must profess that I was less than happy to receive your note earlier this week. It seems that a terrible misunderstanding has taken place between us old friends.

But like all misunderstandings, this one can be dealt with swiftly and silently. No one need know about your embarrassing mishap, and I do hope you trust an old friend to keep a secret. Have faith, I hereby swear not to utter a word of this to anyone. Why, I cherish your dignity far more than mine.

You cannot remember when you slipped into this stationary calm. You remember feeling it for the first time and being thrilled at what it meant. That you were in a state to receive any and all information. You do not even remember when this calm had become everyday, omnipresent, absolute.

Are you ready to let go of it now? The status you had been so proud of. Are you still proud? Are you still under the impression that you are better than others? Is knowledge really the key to everything? Yes, that much you are sure of, even if it is the only thing you are sure of, right now. This and the knowledge that some doors should not be unlocked.

A light breeze enters your chambers – not strong enough to make you shiver, but very apt at making its golden presence felt. From the corner of your eye, you notice the letter lift all the more precariously off the desk. Or perhaps it had not, and you simply imagined it. Would the gust of such a slight wind be enough to move a heavy goat-skin parchment?

You are not used to doubt and indecisiveness. Was that not the reason you invented a remedy for it? One that has not left your person for an age now.

Are you not the cleverest person alive? Who else would know the far off sojourn of the planets, the pattern of this blasted golden breeze rippling through the springtime hay and honeysuckles? Does it matter? Does the punctuality of the far off orbiting planets that you are aware of from the confines of your humble quarters matter? Does anything matter anymore? Do you? Does it?

And the worst is the realization that you have been outwitted, and you are not even given the foolish excuse of it being the first time. Because you have been outwitted daily for a long time now. You have to accept it like you would a mathematical fact. The fact that you, with all the knowledge you boast of, have been outwitted, and angered, and shamed, and hurt.

_Now, there will be no need to panic. In fact, if I may, I have found a solution of sorts to this little predicament. Please allow me to suggest how something good can actually be salvaged from this._

As you are well aware, Hogwarts is a growing school. Its fame has spread far and wide, and although some have abandoned her, others have taken up the task of aiding her growth and expansion. And there is certainly no such thing as an abundance of funds to manage our school.

I know for a fact, and I am positive that so do you, that Lord Bentley has certain intentions towards you. And, if I may add, I can certainly understand him. You are the fairest creature we have laid eyes upon.

Lord Bentley is a perfectly respectable gentleman, of fairly good descent and quite financially secure. With his cooperation, Hogwarts shall rise to new heights of the likes we have not even dared dream of. He is also very, shall we say, captivated by you and will make you, as well as your child, very happy.

No! You are not going to think about the child. Or rather, you are not going to think about the child consciously. Is it not enough that your dreams are always filled with it? It should not be allowed to take up any more of your thoughts.

You reach up to your hair. The long, raven black, silky strands that now disgust you. And you will not recall how proudly you wore them loose for so long, allowing the sun, wind and certain deceptive fingers to play with them.

Your pet returns through the window, smelling of the golden warmth outdoors. But its sleek feathers quickly turn from its previously relaxed floating state into an airborne frenzy as it soars towards your shoulder. It has realized what you are trying to do and tries to aid with its beak, gently but firmly pecking at the diadem.

However, even your combined efforts are not enough. The sapphire-encrusted tiara, the most famed of your inventions, sought and revered by friend and foe alike, does not release its grip. You have worn it for so long that you never realized when exactly it became more than an accessory. And it is too late now.

_Now, I do realize that this is a significant step for you, Rowena dearest. Any woman would want to think thoroughly before making a decision involving her intended – but if I may voice my most honest opinion without offending you, I must say that you are not left with a variety of alternatives._

And while I believe that it is quite unnecessary for me to state this, I repeat that I will always be here should you need me. I shall forevermore remain your source of aid and comfort whenever you require it, fair Rowena. There is no need to extend gratitude from your modest lips. I harbour no wish to hear how grateful you are, as we are friends, and friendship requires no such formality. Not to mention that I consider it my highest honour to be of any manner of service to you.

Do you finally realize why you cannot take the diadem off? Do you want to take it off, now, even after everything that has happened? How far are you willing to go in order to throw off the curse you had once embraced so possessively?

You are perfectly aware of the dangers of removing the diadem with magic. It is hardly surprising, as you are aware of many things right now. Most of all – that you do not wish to be aware of anything, not anymore. So you suppose that the fear, the interest, the indifference really matter not.

You reach for your wand, not hastily, as haste has never been your manner, but more firmly than you have ever reached for it before. You slowly touch its tip to your temple as the coal black bird watches, frozen in horror as you begin to chant.

_Rowena, do give careful consideration to what I have suggested. It really is the best possible solution for everyone involved, and I would once again repeat that Lord Bentley will make you extremely happy – both you and your child. Even if he knew the truth, which, of course, he certainly does not have to._

Always yours,  
Godric

You can hear the quiet musical notes floating through the window, the scent of early spring caressing your senses, the feel of that golden breeze finally pushing the parchment off the desk and out of your mind. Yes, everything will soon be out of your mind… everything.

With a last wave of exhaustion, you stumble and sink to the stone floor as the intelligence you have worn for so long slides off its pedestal and clatters to the floor. And you hear nothing else.


End file.
